


Creme Brulee

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkwardness, Cheesy Romance Stuff, Fake Dating, Kissing, Love Hotel, M/M, Mirror Sex, Pining, Podfic Welcome, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 17:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17027085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Ryan and Shane investigate a haunted honeymoon motel in Niagara Falls.





	Creme Brulee

**Author's Note:**

> A million, billion thanks to Cinco, who is an amazing beta. <3

Ryan should have seen this coming when they arrived at the motel.

“This place doesn’t look like our other haunted locations,” said Shane as he looked through the window, his eyebrows pressing together. It formed a line right in the middle of his forehead, and Ryan wanted to reach up and press his thumb against it. He squeezed his hands together, digging his thumbs into the backs of his hands. 

“I dunno. That one hotel we stayed at in New Orleans was pretty fancy.”

“I don’t know if… 'fancy' is the word I would use to describe this place,” said Shane, squinting. The sky was grey, but everything was still really _bright_. It was what they got for coming to Niagara Falls at the end of October. 

“Tacky,” TJ suggested. 

The windows all had pink, floaty curtains, and there were kissing lawn gnomes in the small front yard. It looked like nothing so much as a small bed and breakfast crossed with something you’d see in a romantic comedy set in Las Vegas. 

“Charming,” Ryan insisted.

“And we’re staying in the honeymoon suite?” Shane’s expression was downright disconcerted. “I didn’t know these kind of places still existed. What’s this gonna be like, champagne flute hot tubs and mirrored ceilings?”

“Champagne flute hot tubs aren’t real,” said Ryan, leaning back into his seat. “But listen - there have been ghosts caught here, _on film._. Four people died, there was apparently blood on the ceilings. And they caught the ghost on film!”

“On film,” Shane echoed. “You’re repeating yourself, Ry.” He didn’t look convinced.

“Seriously! A full torso -”

“You sound like Ray in Ghostbusters,” Shane interrupted.

“And,” Ryan said, talking over the interruption, “there have been ghostly voices as well!”

“Doing what, telling you to turn up the magic fingers on the bed? Giving color commentary as you pork your new spouse?”

“... did you have to say 'pork,' Shane?” Ryan pulled a face. 

“So we’re going to be sleeping in a honeymoon suite,” Shane said, and his voice was flat. He looked tired. “And I notice you didn’t mention the mirrored ceilings at all.” 

Everyone else in the car went about getting organized - grabbing bags, fiddling with straps, generally coming together after a long car ride. Ryan winced, as TJ opened the door and let in a blast of cold air. 

“It won’t be too bad,” said Ryan. “The bed should be big! And we’re only here for a night, and then we’re off to that creepy fort, and the lighthouse. You like lighthouses, don’t you?” Even Ryan could tell that he was laying the fake cheer on a bit thick, but fuck if he was going to just… give in. 

“I do like lighthouses,” Shane agreed. “This just feels like it’s going to be… awkward.”

“It probably will,” said Ryan, and yeah, no, there was definite _mania_ behind his words as he spoke, “but it’ll be great. Absolutely great.” 

“Great,” Shane echoed, and he scrubbed his face with both hands. He looked tired.

“You okay, man?” Ryan tried not to sound too… well, concerned. There was a level of concerned you were allowed to be for your friends, and going above that tended to raise suspicions. 

… at least, he assumed so. He’d never had a crush on another dude before, and so much of it felt like flying blind. 

“Yeah,” said Shane, sighing. “I’m tired, and I have a low tolerance for a certain type of kitsch. Being the only single guy at a honeymoon motel sounds like it may be a bit… grating.”

“You won’t be the only single guy,” Ryan pointed out. “I’ll be there, too.”

“Thanks,” said Shane, and he grinned at Ryan. “That does help, a bit.” He rested a hand on Ryan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. 

“So… we ready to go in?” Ryan rubbed his hands together, and tried not to smile too widely. 

Fuck, he had it bad.

“Let’s do it,” Shane said, unbuckling his seatbelt. He opened the car door to step out, and Ryan tried not to stare too hard. It was like watching a lawn chair unfold. 

* * *

The lobby of the motel had hearts in the floor tiles. Everything was in shades of pink and red, and there were little cherubs smiling down from a mural on the ceiling. Not the cool cherubs with the flaming swords, like the ones in the bible that Ryan had when he was a kid. These were just fat little white kids with wings. 

Shane kept glancing up at the ceiling and then biting his lip. He looked like he was trying not to laugh - his eyes were crinkling around the edges, and his face was turning red.

The woman behind the counter had short, curly white hair, and was wearing a pair of glasses on a chain around her neck. Her sweater had a cat across the front of it, and the cat was wearing a sweater printed with little hearts.

She looked faintly puzzled when Ryan and Shane walked in, but then her face relaxed.

“Are you two the ghost hunters?” She had a Canadian accent. It wasn’t, like, _Yoga Hosers_ in terms of thickness, but it was pretty thick. 

“Yeah,” said Ryan. “You’re Margaret, right?”

“Indeed I am,” she said as she came around the desk to shake Ryan's hand. The top of her head was level with Ryan’s chin, and her hands were cold, soft, and lined. “So you’ll be staying in the newlywed suite -”

“Is that the, uh… the one where the murders happened?” Ryan leaned forward and lowered his voice. He didn’t want to scare away anyone, after all. In theory they had the place to themselves, but still. 

“No, that would be the honeymoon suite,” said Margaret. “But the ghosts don’t like anyone who isn’t in love to sleep there.” 

_Do crushes count, if they’re intense enough?_ almost popped out of Ryan’s mouth, but he caught himself in time. “Pardon?” He said.

“The ghosts. They don’t want anyone who isn’t in love to sleep in their room,” said Margaret, as if that was just a… thing to say. “It’s Leopold, specifically. He was trapped in a loveless marriage, and now being around people in a space for love who aren’t in love makes him angry. Last time he broke a window.” 

Ryan believed in ghosts, but… really? _Really_?

“Is the room already taken?” Shane was finally speaking, and Ryan glanced up at him. Shane’s lips were pressed together, and his hands were stuffed in his pockets.

“No,” said Margaret slowly, and then she put her glasses on, looking up at the two of them. “But it’s only for people who are romantically involved.”

"What makes you think we're not romantically involved?" Shane was... Shane was wrapping an arm around Ryan's shoulders, what was _happening_ , what the fuck?!

Ryan was a bit afraid he was going to pass out.

"Well," she said, and then closed her mouth. She was blushing. "I watched a few of your videos," she said, stammering. "I didn't, um, I didn't think you were dating because -"

"We keep it on the down low. Buzzfeed can be a little weird about people dating their co-hosts. In case they break up, the public finds out... you know how it is." Shane was leaning forward, although his arm was still around Ryan's shoulders. He was doing that thing he did, where he made it seem like just you and him were talking together, in a small, cozy setting.

Ryan wished he could do that thing.

"Oh," said Margaret. 

"Unless us both being men is a problem...?" Shane let the sentence dangle like something coming out of a running nose. 

"No, no, not at all," Margaret said quickly. "Let me just... rearrange things.” 

"Of course," Shane said smoothly as his arm left Ryan's shoulders, his hand sliding into Ryan's.

Ryan looked down at his hand, then up to Shane's face. 

Shane winked at him, that familiar, delighted _we're getting away with it!_ expression that he associated with a certain type of obnoxious video.

Ryan wasn't sure if his heart was going to explode, or if he was going to throw up or pass out... what the fuck was even happening?

"But you two are really in love?" She squinted at Ryan, her eyes huge behind her thick glasses.

"Madly," Ryan said, and his voice only barely cracked. "Practically delirious with it."

"You don't look it," said Margaret. 

And then Shane leaned down and kissed Ryan. 

It should have been more exciting than that, shouldn't it? It shouldn't have been quite so... mundane - it shouldn't have been Shane just leaning down and pressing their mouths together. 

Ryan made a surprised noise, and one of his hands came up to rest on Shane's cheek. It was bristly, and Shane's lips were dry and chapped.

Shane pulled back and he looked down at Ryan. 

Ryan looked up at him. 

Shane turned to look at Margaret. "Does that answer your question?"

"Fair enough," Margaret said, and she smiled at them crookedly. "I've had a few fakers." 

"Not faking it," Ryan said, although his voice was coming from a very long way off. But it was true. He wasn't faking it.

"So you won't need two beds, either," Margaret said, her voice dry.

"Oh, no, not at all," said Shane. He had an arm around Ryan again, and was leaning into him with an easy intimacy that made Ryan's chest hurt. This was going to be painful, when the charade was over. It was going to _hurt_. 

"Good, 'cause we don't have two-bedded rooms here," said Margaret, and then her expression went _lecherous_. 

"Right," said Ryan. He was still blushing.

"Have pity on my boyfriend," Shane said casually. "He's shy."

"Right," Ryan said. 

"He didn't seem that embarrassed in your videos," Margaret said dryly. 

"There's a big difference between PDA and ghosts," said Ryan, finally finding his voice. 

"Fair enough, fair enough," said Margaret. "But if there's one thing that we're not afraid of around here, it's PDA! Just don't scream too loud - the soundproofing needs some improvement."

"We'll do our best," Ryan said faintly.

"Soundproofing?" Shane looked impressed.

"We sell some... addons, in the gift shop," said Margaret. 

And then she listed them.

"Well," said Ryan, when she finished. "I don't know if we'll be able to show any of that on camera."

"We could probably show _some_ of it on camera," said Shane, "as long as we're not too... gross about it."

"There's nothing gross about -" Margaret began.

"Right, right," said Ryan, "but we _do_ ostensibly have an all ages show."

"I wouldn't call it all ages," Shane cut in. "We do swear a lot."

"Okay, yeah, fair," said Ryan, "but there's a difference between a few F bombs and, uh...." He trailed off, blushing. 

"Indeed," said Shane, and then he let go of Ryan. "So are we good?"

There was paperwork to be signed, of course, and then Margaret ushered them down the hall towards a pink door. The number plate on it was in the shape of a heart. 

"Have a good stay," said Margaret, and then she had the audacity to _wink_. 

Oh _fuck_. 

“Shall you do the honors?” Shane was holding the key, and it was an _actual key_ , with a heart-shaped bow. 

(Ryan had looked up the anatomy of keys once, although he couldn’t remember why. He couldn’t remember anything, because everything in his head was screaming very loudly.)

“Sure,” said Ryan, then, “babe.” 

This was stupid. 

This was all really, really stupid, and it wasn’t going to result in anything, it didn’t _mean_ anything. They were doing this for a bit, it was just so they could do a video, it would all work out, and then Ryan would go back to his life of… what? Jerking off in his cold, empty bed, longing for his best friend like someone out of a shitty movie, pretending that Shane held his hand for any reason other than for a video.

Okay.

It was for a bit. He could do it for a bit. 

Maybe he’d hold it a little closer to his feelings than he needed to, but… fuck it.

He could still remember what Shane’s lips felt like against his own. He wasn’t going to think about that right now, now wasn’t the time.

So he stuck the key in the lock and he turned it. 

The lock clicked, and then the door swung open. 

* * * 

“Um,” said Shane, when they both stepped in. 

“Well,” said Ryan. 

It was really hard to say anything else, honestly.

There was… there was red. There was a lot of red. Red and pink. The bed was in the shape of a heart, without a headboard. There was a huge mirror that took up nearly all of the wall at the head of it. The carpet under them was a deep, dark red. The ceiling was red as well - until Ryan realized that the ceiling was mirrored, at which point he wanted to actually _die_. 

Shane looked up at it, and Ryan looked up too - their faces were reflected back at them, again and again and again. 

“I am gonna wake up at, like, two in the morning, and then I’m going to have a heart attack and then die,” said Ryan, in a calm voice. 

At least, he assumed it was calm. Some part of his brain was still screaming. 

“Well, look at it this way,” said Shane. “You’ll add to the ghost mystery.”

“Forget the murder,” said Ryan. “Someone saw their own reflection at the wrong moment and it killed them.” 

“I don’t think even _my_ face is that ugly,” said Shane, and he laughed and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. 

“I can honestly say that if I woke up and you were next to me unexpectedly, I’d probably die,” said Ryan, which was true. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Shane, giving Ryan a sidelong look. 

Ryan couldn’t read it.

“You wanna film an intro, then go wander around Niagara Falls?” Shane had his arms crossed over his chest.

“Sounds like a plan,” said Ryan, although he felt a bit like he was a bit to the left of himself. Maybe it was making him reckless. “We should, uh… maybe we should be holding hands? On the way out.”

_It’s not like you’ll ever have this opportunity again,_ said the melodramatic part of Ryan’s mind, although he was internally rolling his eyes at it. He thought he’d outgrown that melodrama already. 

“I’ve got a better idea,” said Shane. “Unbutton your top two buttons, okay?”

“Wait, what?” 

“Of your shirt,” I mean,” said Shane. “And take off your scarf.”

“What are you planning, exactly?” Ryan unwrapped his scarf and then unbuttoned his shirt. He was a bit too aware of his bare collarbone and the way it stood out against the red of his shirt.

And then Shane just _leaned forward_ , and his mouth was on Ryan’s _collarbone_ , and Ryan should have said something but he didn’t. He just… stood there, as Shane started to suck - hard enough that it was getting uncomfortable enough that Ryan almost pushed him away.

But he didn't. 

God, he was going to have a _monster_ of a hickey. A monster of a hickey from _Shane_. He could smell Shane’s shampoo - coconut, and Shane didn’t seem like the type of guy who’d have coconut shampoo. What kind of guy would have coconut shampoo?

… Ryan was gibbering. 

Oh god, he had an erection. Not just a bit of one, either. This was the kind of hard on he associated with being a teenager, desperate to stick it in anything. He was pretty desperate to stick it into Shane. Or have Shane’s in him, he wasn’t picky. 

Shane pulled back, and Ryan was mildly disappointed there wasn’t a popping sound. He was majorly disappointed not to have Shane pressed against him again. 

“That should convince ‘em,” Shane said cheerfully. “I think.”

“You, uh… you think?” Ryan’s hand went to his collarbone, and he pressed down on the hickey with his thumb. “Wow.” 

“You okay, Ry?” Shane looked thoughtful, his lips a bit swollen, his eyes a bit dark.

“Yeah,” Ryan said thickly. “Doin’... great. Absolutely _great_.” 

“You sure? You don’t look so good.” 

Ryan rubbed the back of his neck, his heart beating a desperate staccato between his cock and his ears. His face must have been bright red, and he was sweating down the backs of his knees. “I’m fine,” he said, although he was only tangentially aware that it was coming out of his own mouth. “I’ll, uh, I’ll… I’ll just be back.” 

He almost ran into the bathroom, where he shoved his shirt to the side and stared at himself in the mirror.

His face was pale, and the hickey on his collarbone stood out like a brand. His lips were swollen from when he’d been biting them. Okay. It would be a bad idea to jerk off right now. They had to go get their stuff and then film, they had so much they needed to do, but… _god_ , he had a whopper of a hickey right there on his collarbone. 

Fuck. 

Okay.

He licked his lips, splashed some cold water on his face, and he rearranged himself so his boner was less obvious.

At least it wouldn’t be noticeable on camera, right?

The hickey would be hidden if Ryan buttoned his shirt up enough, but he could at least leave it visible enough for Margaret to see when they left. 

It would be fine. 

It would all be fine.

If only his hands would stop shaking, and he could stop thinking about how _nice_ it had been to have Shane pressed up against him like that. About how wonderful it felt to be held against someone else, as close as possible, for those few seconds before Shane had stood up.

But no. He wasn’t going to dwell. He _wasn’t_. 

* * *

Shane was sitting on the bed looking at a laminated piece of paper in his hand, his eyebrows up around his hairline. 

“What’s up?” Ryan made his way towards the bed and sat down close enough that their knees were almost touching. 

… why was he so excited by near knee touching, when Shane had just given him a doozy of a hickey? How could he be _this infatuated_? He was a grown ass man, not some high school kid. 

“So they’ve got a lube menu,” said Shane, and he handed the laminated paper to Ryan. Shane shifted a little closer so that his knee was right up against Ryan’s, and Ryan blushed as he scanned the page. 

“A lube… menu? Are there that many types of lube?” Ryan realized he must be blushing.

He was blushing so hard that his head was beating in time with his heart, and he was almost worried that he’d pass out, because… well, fuck. 

He was staring at the menu, and then - “wait, creme brulee?!” 

“Creme brulee,” Shane said, clearly trying not to laugh. 

“Why would anyone need _creme brulee lube_?!” Ryan moved beyond his ridiculous crush to gape over the idea of… well, creme brulee lube.

“Some people get bored with the usual lube flavors,” Shane said, and there was just enough of a hitch in his voice that it was clear that he was still trying not to laugh. “After all, cherry and banana are pedestrian. Now creme brulee? That’s the cosmopolitan’s lube.”

Ryan burst into raucous laughter. He couldn’t help it - the sheer ridiculousness of the whole scenario crashed down on his head, and he was flopping back onto the bed and cackling like a hyena. 

Shane looked over at him, his expression faintly worried, but then he grinned as well. “What’s so funny? This is a perfectly reasonable way for a man of sophistication and taste, _such as myself_ , to order my lube.”

Ryan kept laughing until he was laughing so hard that he was actually crying, and Shane was looking at him with a worried expression. Shane reached out one giant hand and wiped some of the wetness off Ryan's cheek with his thumb. 

Whatever great weight had been crushing Ryan’s chest began to lessen and he sighed, wiping his nose on the back of his hand and staring up at his own reflection. If he was going to go along with this lunacy he might as well just embrace it, right?

“Hey Shane?”

“Yeah?”

“I should mess your hair up. So it looks more real.”

“Oh,” said Shane. “Right. That makes sense.”

Ryan sat up and slid his hand into Shane’s. He found it damp from his own tears of laughter. 

“Can we… can we talk about some stuff? Later, I mean.” Ryan looked back up to the ceiling to stare at his own reflection, and he saw that he was turning red. His eyes were on the place where his fingers were laced in with Shane’s. 

Shane squeezed Ryan’s fingers and then let go to stand up and ruffle his own hair, making a total mess out of it. “We can always talk about stuff,” Shane told him. “Okay?”

“Okay,” said Ryan, and he stood up as well. “C’mon. We should get going. TJ is gonna kill us.”

“Probably,” Shane said cheerfully. 

“Let me,” Ryan said, and he got up on his tiptoes, his hands going to Shane’s head. 

They were almost nose to nose, and Ryan tried to imagine what he’d do with Shane’s hair if he was kissing Shane right here and now. 

He avoided Shane’s eyes, because making eye contact at a time like this would be… awkward, so he looked over Shane’s left shoulder as he carefully messed up Shane’s hair. 

“You seem to have a lot of experience with makeout-induced hair mussing,” Shane said, and his breath was warm across Ryan’s face. 

“I’ve led an interesting life,” Ryan said, as if he was talking about skydiving and not just kissing. 

“So I gather,” said Shane.

It was very quiet, and then Ryan pulled back to look critically at Shane. 

“You sure I don’t need a hickey or something?” Shane looked up at himself in the mirror and then frowned. “Wow, this is a weird angle.” 

“You don’t say,” Ryan said. “You should, uh… we should hold hands. While we go out.”

“You think of everything,” Shane said easily, and then he took Ryan’s hand in his. “Let’s continue our ridiculous charade.” He squeezed Ryan’s fingers, and Ryan blushed.

* * *

They were indeed leered at by Margaret as they went back to the car.

They told everyone about… well, all of it.

Devon thought it was hilarious, because of course she did.

TJ raised an eyebrow and said “keep it off camera.” 

Shane hadn’t let go of Ryan’s hand until they were all the way out of the hotel, and Ryan was walking on clouds. 

* * *

They set up everything in the room, filmed an intro, and took some B-roll.

Ryan buttoned his shirt back up, although he was still aware of the hickey - it felt like a brand right there on his collarbone.

“So,” said TJ, “we're leaving you two to your own devices until around six. Then we’ll meet for dinner, film the episode, and go from there.”

“Right,” said Ryan. “Sounds good.”

“If Margaret asks, you can say that you try to keep it off camera,” Devon added. She was still snickering off and on.

“Right,” said Ryan, and hopefully his face didn’t look like how he was feeling. “Okay. So should we, uh… should we get going?”

“Let’s.”

* * *

Ryan and Shane set themselves loose on Niagara Falls.

It was… tacky. It was just exceptionally tacky - it was the kind of tacky that transcended tackiness, and came out the other side. Ryan loved it with every atom of his being. 

There were people selling fudge, like at a theme park. There was a waxworks museum, with a glittering Katy Perry singing in the window.

They went to a Ripley’s Believe it or Not, and Shane made fun of the fact that every description of a two-headed animal had the exact same placard, right down to a particular typo.

They bought ice wine chocolate, and candy made of pure maple sugar shaped like maple leaves.

“We should take a picture,” Shane said, when the two of them had paused in front of a souvenir shop to look at maple syrup in differently shaped bottles.

“We’ve taken a few,” Ryan pointed out, because they had. Pictures of the various honeymoon hotels, pictures of various weird tourist things they’d seen (including a candy called “moose balls” and a tourist attraction of an upside down house), and pictures of each other wearing silly hats. 

“I meant a… couple picture,” said Shane. “In case someone asks.”

“You mean Margaret?” 

… hm. 

“Yeah,” said Shane, blushing. “Right. Her. We should take a couple picture.”

“What kind of couple picture?” Ryan shoved his hands into his pockets, took them out, and crossed his arms across his chest. 

“I, uh… I’m not sure,” said Shane. “I feel like a selfie might not work.” 

“Because of the height difference,” said Ryan. “Does it even count as a selfie, when it’s two people?”

There was something going on - something delicate, something complicated, something that Ryan did _not_ understand except that it was making his stomach tie up in knots.

“Let’s just get out of this ridiculous place,” Shane said, and his hand slid into Ryan’s. The two of them moved against the tide of people, downhill, towards the Falls. 

Ryan squeezed Shane’s fingers, and Shane squeezed back. Ryan blushed.

Yeah, there was definitely _something_ going on, but he didn’t know what it was. 

They hadn’t seen the Falls yet. They were staying near the top of the hill, and the Falls were at the very bottom. There were gardens around them, and the tacky tourist crap was a bit thinner on the ground. 

“We can ask someone to take a picture of us,” said Shane. 

“Right,” said Ryan, but then they were at the railing, staring at the Falls, and Shane’s hand was in his.

The Falls were _big_. It was a bigness that he knew had to exist, because… well, big things existed, right? He’d been to New York City, he’d seen skyscrapers. He’d seen the Grand Canyon, and it had given him a similar “knock the air out of your lungs” sort of feeling - here was something that was old and real, older than humanity, and it was strong, it was….

“That’s a lot of water,” Shane said, leaning forward, his mouth level with Ryan’s ear. 

“A lot,” Ryan agreed. “What do you need all of that water for?”

“They used to use it for power,” Shane said. His chest was right up against Ryan’s shoulder, and his breath was warm on the back of Ryan’s neck. 

Ryan was breaking out in goosebumps, and something like arousal was flushing through him - but slowly, like slipping into a warm bath. 

“Yeah?” Ryan just wanted Shane to keep talking.

“Oh yeah,” said Shane. “There were water wheels all along the canyon walls.”

“How do you know so much about this?” Ryan leaned back against Shane, and Shane rested his chin on Ryan’s shoulder and put his hands around Ryan’s waist. 

They were both wearing too many layers for it to be… erotic, per se, but Ryan could almost swear that he could feel Shane’s heart beating. He was probably imagining it, but what the hell. In the sight of all of that screaming, roaring water, why not believe in something a little dumb and fanciful?

“Let’s get a picture,” said Shane, and he let go of Ryan's waist. “Excuse me, ma’am?”

* * * 

An older woman took a picture of them with Shane’s arms back around Ryan’s waist and his chin against Ryan’s shoulder.

It felt a bit like taking a prom photo. 

Shane kissed his temple, and Ryan blushed so hard he thought he might pass out.

“Thank you,” he said to the woman, and she made an agreeable noise and then handed Shane his phone back. 

Shane and Ryan looked at each other, keeping the kind of the intense eye contact that one would associate with a candlelit dinner, not the kind of thing that you did when surrounded by people in cheesy “Maiden of the Mist” ponchos. 

Then a kid nearly ran into Shane’s side, and the moment was lost. 

“You wanna, uh… want to go on the Ferris wheel before we get dinner?”

“Nah,” said Ryan. “I got stuck on one of those ages ago. I think if I did it in view of Niagara Falls, I might pee my pants.”

“Wouldn’t want you to pee your pants in one of those cars,” said Shane, his tone deadpan. “They look like they’re enclosed. It would probably smell horrible.” 

“Exactly,” said Ryan. “Best to skip it.” 

“So… they had a whole brochure for the world’s largest indoor aviary,” Shane said. “It’s got a history of Niagara Falls museum in it too.”

“That sounds amazingly ridiculous,” said Ryan. “I’m all for it.” 

Shane’s hand reached out, and then they were holding hands again as they walked past another big garden.

Ryan didn’t say anything, but he laced their fingers together and rubbed his thumb across Shane’s bony knuckles. 

* * * 

The indoor aviary turned out to be an old building full of plants and very loud birds. 

There were secretary birds scuttling around, pigeons in every color of the rainbow, and a bird that had what looked like a pompadour of lacy white feathers. But it wasn’t until they saw the kookaburra that Ryan fell a little bit in love.

“Hey Shane, look,” said Ryan, and he indicated the bird with its oversized head. “It’s you!”

Shane began to laugh… and so did the bird.

That got Ryan laughing, and the two of them (the three of them, if you counted the bird) were all laughing. 

Shane’s head was thrown back, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as his face turned red and his eyes squinted shut. He looked ugly and beautiful at the same time, and Ryan’s stomach seized up like it was in a vice. 

Some part of Ryan was deliriously, painfully in love, and he’d never recover from that, would he?

* * * 

The history of Niagara museum was… well, kitschy. Lots of black and white pictures.

Shane was, of course, delighted, and spent nearly forty-five minutes examining grainy photographs. 

There was a place to take a novelty picture of yourself going over the falls in a barrel. 

They each took one, obviously. How could they not?

“Let’s take one together,” Shane said, after they'd pulled the requisite dumb faces. “Sir? Could you take a picture of us?” 

“Of course,” said a passing man, who had the kind of face that could have been thirty or sixty. 

Shane and Ryan stood in the fake barrel, and Ryan turned to look at Shane, not sure what to do.

Only for Shane to… lean down and _kiss_ him, right when the guy said “smile!” And then he pulled back, staring up at Shane in shock, his emotions gooier than they had any right to be.

“Thank you,” Shane said to the man as he took his phone back, and then he turned back to Ryan. “Ready to get dinner?” 

“Dinner? Um. Right. Yes.” Ryan was blushing, and it was hard to think. He had a boner again. He was in a novelty barrel, and he had an erection. 

He would have been embarrassed, if he had any shame left in him. 

* * * 

They went to dinner with Devon and TJ. 

Shane got a burger that came with grilled cheese sandwiches. It was almost as much of a monstrosity as the Bigfoot burger they’d had, when they went Squatch hunting. 

Their knees were pressed together under the table, and nobody commented on it. 

Thankfully. 

* * *

And then they were in the motel. 

Margaret didn’t ask to see any pictures, but… well, they had them if anyone asked, didn’t they?

But they had other things to worry about - like filming the episode. 

“All the paperwork is in order?” TJ asked as he fiddled with the camera, trying to find a part of the room that wasn’t reflective.

“Everything is signed. We’re good,” said Ryan. He was trying not to fidget too much, but he couldn’t keep from shifting from foot to foot. One hand went to his chest, where he pressed down on the hickey unconsciously. 

“Right,” said TJ. “Let’s get started.” 

* * *

And then they filmed.

It was as normal as an episode of theirs ever was.

Something kept… moving in the mirror, but Shane didn’t see it. There were a lot of jokes about love hotels. 

The lube menu was kept out of sight. 

The spirit box picked up on a few different somethings saying… well, something. Shane remained unconvinced, as always. 

Eventually, they were done - there was screaming, wisecracking, and truly _scintillating_ banter. 

The camera was placed in the one spot it wouldn’t film itself, and they were getting ready for bed. 

Everything was just… normal. They brushed their teeth and changed into pajamas, although Ryan had to stay in his shirt because of the hickey. 

There was banter, which Ryan could do in his sleep at this point, and then they were both lying in the big, heart-shaped bed, their heads at each lobe. It was roomy enough that they could sleep comfortably without touching.

But their feet were touching under the covers. Ryan’s cock was hard in his pajama pants, and his heart was beating very loudly in his ears. But he was, simultaneously, relaxed enough that he was drowsy. He’d never been this horny and this sleepy at the same time - was he becoming accustomed to the mix? He’d gotten used to sleeping while scared, after so many on-location shoots. For once he wasn’t particularly scared of ghosts - ghosts were a terrifying idea, but in the here and now he was too horny to concentrate on them. 

At least being this horny distracted him from being scared, right? There was an obvious difference between an “I’m near Shane” boner and a fear boner, for all that the two things usually happened simultaneously. 

“What did you want to talk about?” Shane’s voice was sleepy and warm in the darkness.

“Shane,” Ryan said, keeping his voice low so the mic wouldn’t pick it up, “we’re _on camera_.”

“Oh,” said Shane, then, “that’s fixable.” 

And then Shane got out of bed, walked over to the camera, and turned it off. 

“TJ is gonna kill us,” said Ryan, because he had to say something before something else popped out of his mouth. Something weirder and more emotionally… complicated. 

“Eh,” said Shane, climbing back onto the bed to sprawl out over the covers with his hands behind his head. The streetlight filtered into the room through the pink curtains, and an occasional passing car’s headlights reflected off the mirrors. 

Everything had an eerie, dreamlike quality. It was a bit like watching an old movie - the shadows did creepythings to the furniture. 

“I mention our possible _death_ at TJ's hands and all you can say is ‘eh’?” Ryan rolled onto his side to look over at Shane. He pillowed his head on his arm and wished that Shane was under the covers with him, although the idea also made his heart beat a little harder. “Talk about millennial nihilism!”

“So what did you want to talk about?” Shane barged right through Ryan’s attempts to delay the conversation, in that way that he always did. 

“Um,” said Ryan, because… well. 

Shane looked over at him and the light rolled off of his nose like a drop of water, gilding his chin. His eyes were in shadow. 

“Well,” Ryan tried again. “I’ve, uh, I’ve noticed… I’ve noticed. I’ve noticed things..”

“Evidently you’ve _really_ noticed things, if you’ve said it three times,” said Shane, in a voice as dry as death valley and about half as deep.

Ryan snorted and rolled onto his back so that he wasn’t looking at Shane’s face as he spoke. “I like you,” he said, and he held his breath.

“I like you, too,” Shane said. He sounded faintly puzzled. “We spend a ridiculous amount of time together, so I should hope we like each other by now.” 

Ryan sighed. He was going to have to be _specific_ , wasn’t he? Fuck. Then he heard Shane snickering. 

“Ryan,” said Shane, “I know what you mean. I’m yanking your chain.” 

Ryan groaned, covering his face with both hands. “Don’t yank my chain,” he said, his voice coming out muffled. “It’s attached to delicate things. Like my feelings.”

“You do have very delicate feelings,” Shane agreed, and then he reached out to rest one big hand on Ryan’s belly, over the blanket. 

“So… I have a crush on you,” Ryan hazarded. “A… a big one. A lot of one. How do you quantify a crush? Is it like… a millimeter of a crush? A gross?”

“Ryan, you can’t bury actual feelings talk in minutiae,” said Shane. “Unless you want to turn the camera back on and actually have a pedantic back and forth, which will no doubt boost our ratings and fuel who even knows how much fanfiction.”

“I don’t want to think about that,” Ryan said, his hands still covering his face. “Please. I’m trying to have a vulnerable emotional moment.”

“Right, right,” said Shane. “Sorry. So you like me. And?”

“What do you mean, and?” Ryan sat up, dislodging Shane’s hand, full of genuine indignation. “I’m baring my soul to you!” 

“You are,” said Shane, and he was looking up at Ryan, his face wide open. “And I’m saying, I’m seeing it. I’m accepting it. I saw your soul - your soul isn’t exactly subtle.”

“So wait,” Ryan said, resting his elbows on his thighs, putting his face back in his hands. He was reeling. “You’re saying you know I have a crush on you?” 

“I do,” said Shane, “and have.” 

“Oh,” said Ryan. “So why didn’t you say anything? Or… or do anything, I guess.” He caught a flicker in one of the mirrors and whipped his head around to see it, but it was just a car going by. He turned back to face Shane, his heart in his throat. 

“... Why didn't I do anything? Ryan, I agreed to stay in a love motel with you, gave you a hickey the size of Rhode Island, and have been holding your hand and kissing you all day. I thought you would have guessed by now that I might, in fact, return your affections?” Ryan realized that Shane sounded nervous.

“But… but that was all for the bit,” Ryan sputtered. Thinking felt a bit like trying to run through a swamp, and also the air was made of pudding. There was no way this could be that simple. 

“The bit that I _agreed_ to go along with,” Shane said. “Gladly. Gleefully.” Yeah, no, Shane most definitely sounded nervous. 

“Oh,” said Ryan. 

“Ry,” said Shane, and now he was sitting up again, “oh my god, Ry, did you think I was doing the fake dating just for a… bit?”

“... yes?” 

Now Shane covered _his_ face with both hands, and they covered a whole lot of real estate - his palms were on his chin, and his fingers were ruffling his eyebrows. The part of his expression that Ryan could see was longsuffering.

“Ryan,” said Shane, “I like you 'like that,' I want to kiss you and fuck you and do who knows how many horrible-slash-wonderful things to you. I like you enough that I agreed to sleep under a mirrored ceiling with you. I don’t do that for just _anyone_ , okay?” The last words came out in a rush, and then it was quiet, as if Shane was waiting to hear what Ryan would say next. 

“Right,” said Ryan, still in a daze. 

“Are you just going to sit there and look at me like that?” Shane sounded nervous again, and Ryan realized with some shock that Shane was trembling. 

“Do you want me to do anything else?” Ryan kept his eyes on his own hands, but there was a moment of silence, and then he looked up.

“I don’t know,” Shane said, and then he uncovered his face, his hands falling to his sides. “Ideally, you’d say something like, ‘yes, Shane, take me in your manly arms,’ and then we’d fuck like bunnies.” 

“I don’t think bunnies have gay sex,” Ryan said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Then, “wait, _manly_ arms?” 

“My arms are plenty manly,” Shane said, and he flexed them to illustrate. 

Ryan reached out (oh fuck, he was _doing_ this) and squeezed Shane’s bicep, and Shane made an indignant noise. Ryan moved his hand down along Shane’s arm until he was holding Shane’s hand again - Shane’s hand was big, and his palm was dry, his fingers spindly. They were exactly the same as they’d been when they’d walked around the Falls, and now they were… more so. 

Ryan wrapped their fingers together, and then they both leaned in to kiss each other… and bonked foreheads.

“Ow,” Shane said, rubbing his forehead.

“This is easier in the movies,” Ryan complained. 

“It always is,” said Shane. “You wanna try again?”

“Right,” said Ryan, and then leaned in again. It was a bit like watching himself from a distance, except he was _also_ right there. 

He kissed Shane, and it wasn’t a joke this time. It was a real thing, a real kiss, not put on for anybody else.

There were only their reflections, echoed back and back and back at them, but Ryan’s eyes were closed. Ryan’s tongue was in Shane’s mouth, and Ryan’s hands were in Shane’s hair, and then they were chest to chest because Ryan seemed to have lost any vestige of shame, as desperate as he was. Shane sat up fully with his back against the mirror, at the top of the curve of the heart. Ryan moved to straddle him, his hands back in Shane’s hair. Some part of Ryan's mind was still screaming that he was sitting in _Shane’s_ lap, kissing him, but it was beginning to sink in. 

Shane’s mouth was hot and wet as it made its way along Ryan’s throat, from Ryan’s shoulder to the soft spot behind his ear. Ryan shuddered as Shane’s mouth rested on his pulse point, and Ryan was shaking, his fingers still clinging to Shane’s hair. 

“I’ve wanted to do this since the first time you wore that stupid fucking v-neck,” Shane said, and then he was kissing lower until he was sucking right above the mark he’d left earlier. Ryan’s fingers yanked on Shane’s hair.

“I look good in a v-neck,” Ryan mumbled. “Fuck, your _mouth_ ,” he hissed, as Shane’s lips moved along his Adam’s apple, and sucking hard enough that Ryan’s toes curled right up against Shane’s calves, bunching up the fabric of Shane’s pants. Some of it was from the sensation, but some of it… fuck, was this _really_ happening? And here, of all places? Sure, it was starting to sink in, but… fuck. _Fuck_. 

“I know,” said Shane, and then he was _sucking_ , hard enough to make a wet smacking sound, and that would have been gross or weird or… something. Except it wasn’t, it was hot, this was all hot, Ryan's eyes were rolling back in his head and he was humping against Shane’s belly. He’d have died of humiliation except Shane was pulling him closer, so this wasn’t some weird, awkward thing. This was the both of them together. 

“God, you’re gonna give me a… a purple apple,” Ryan said, slurring like he was drunk as he clung to Shane. This was _real_ , it was all happening, and Ryan’s cock was throbbing in time with his heart, in time with his head. 

This was like every fantasy that Ryan had stroked himself off to since he’d realized he had a crush on Shane - except he wouldn’t have put in all the mirrors, or the heart shaped bed, or the muppet skin carpet. It all felt like this was a dream, but it _wasn’t_ , because if he was dreaming he wouldn’t be sweating like this, and the headlights wouldn’t be going by and shining in Ryan’s face. 

“That’s not a real thing,” Shane said, and his voice vibrated through Ryan’s chest and against his neck. “No way.”

“Totally is,” said Ryan as he skimmed his hands up Shane’s sides under his shirt, sliding in sweat. “God, you need to… take this off.” It almost - almost - felt like asking for too much, but what could be too much with Shane’s marks all over his neck, with Shane’s heart beating against his own? 

There was a moment as they both leaned back, and then Shane was shirtless and he tugged Ryan’s shirt up and off too. His hands raking down Ryan’s back, squeezing the muscles he found there. It was like being drunk as all those months of desperation filled his head up like fog. He was practically _giddy_. 

“God,” Shane said, his voice something close to reverent. “I’ve wanted to get my hands on you for _ever_.”

“You’re making me sound like a rare baseball card or something,” Ryan said, breathless. He hissed as Shane’s nails dug in, and his cock twitched. 

“As if I’d collect baseball cards,” said Shane, and then his hand ghosted across Ryan's stomach. 

“You strike me as the type,” Ryan said. “The c-c-collecting type, _fuck_ , Shane!” Shane’s mouth was tricky, and it was answering some craving - he hadn’t realized how much his skin had been crying out for… anything. Another nibble, another hickey, and Ryan groaned in the back of his throat. He was going to be as spotted as a goddamn leopard. Good. He wanted to be able to look himself in the mirror, press his thumb into the marks and feel the pain of them, remember that this wasn’t a dream.

He didn’t care about the marks. That was a problem for future Ryan. Who cared about future Ryan? 

“Do I, now?” Shane’s hands were still going up and down Ryan’s back, and Ryan was beginning to shiver. It was almost overstimulation. It was just this side of _perfect_. 

“I want to ride your dick,” Ryan said in a rush, because if he was going to be emotionally open and honest about shit, he was going to go whole hog. Especially if he wanted to take the whole hog. Wait. “Do people call their dicks hogs?”

“People call their motorcycles hogs,” said Shane. “Motorcycles can be a dick stand-in. So, I guess?” Ryan’s cock was flexing in his sweatpants. “You sure you want to go… full tilt? Like, straight to the dick?”

“I mean,” said Ryan, “if I blow you or stroke you off or whatever, that’s _still_ me interacting with your dick.” He ground down because he could, and Shane made a helpless little noise, his hips jerking forward and nearly unseating Ryan. 

“I can’t really argue with that logic,” said Shane, pulling Ryan close again. “But I worry you’re jumping ass-first into this.” 

“Ass first,” Ryan said. “Really?” His hands were on the back of Shane’s head, the curve of it fitting perfectly in his palms. He sifted Shane’s hair through his fingers and Shane made a contented noise, his whole body going slightly boneless against the wall. 

“What would you prefer, then? Dick first? You can fuck me, if you’d rather? But you said you wanted to ride my dick.” Shane looked awkward, licking his lips. “Unless I’m reading this situation wrong.”

“Shane, I am literally sitting on your lap with my boner pressed against your stomach,” said Ryan. “How could you be misreading the situation?” He rolled his hips for emphasis, pressing his ass down against Shane’s erection, and Shane moaned long and deep. His head thunked back against the mirror. 

“I don’t know,” Shane said defensively. “I worry.” His hands were still stroking up and down Ryan’s back and sides.

“I want to ride your dick on this ridiculous heart-shaped bed, so we can go shower in that equally stupid shower. And if you can get another boner in less than an hour, maybe I could blow you in said shower,” Ryan said, his head full of filthy imagery and his filter destroyed from arousal and the luxury of being touched. “And then we can put our clothes back on, and... and we can get back in bed. In the morning we can say the camera malfunctioned and I’ll say the ghosts did it, and -”

Ryan’s babble was cut off by Shane’s mouth. They were kissing again, soul kissing, and then it was nothing but mouths on mouths, tongues against tongues. Shane’s teeth were blunt but they still pinched when they tugged on Ryan’s lip and Shane’s hands on Ryan’s ass pulled Ryan closer. Their chests were sliding together, slick with sweat,.

Shane’s chest hair was almost _ticklish_ against Ryan’s nipples and Shane’s stubble was going to rub Ryan pink, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered at all. Nothing but Shane’s wet mouth against his own, Shane’s hands down the back of his pajama pants, Ryan moaning into Shane’s mouth. Shane was panting and they were forehead to forehead, breathing each other’s breath. 

“I really, really want to suck your cock,” said Shane. “But I also don’t want to get up.”

“I could, uh… I could kinda… straddle your face? If that would work?” Ryan licked his lips. 

“I want to finger you while I do it,” said Shane, as if they were talking about where to go to dinner, or what weird tourist thing to visit while traveling for a location shoot. “Can I do that?”

“Do you have lube?” Ryan licked his lips. “Condoms? Do we need condoms? I’ve never done this before. With a guy. I’ve never bottomed with a guy before.” He shifted positions so that he was more on his knees, making it easier for Shane to maneuver. 

“I’m disease free, if that’s what you’re worried about,” said Shane. “And, uh… if you’re -”

"Right, right," Ryan said quickly. "Don't worry, it's fine."

“You’re impatient,” Shane said, his tone teasing. One of his long fingers traced the crack of Ryan’s ass, and Ryan arched into it like a cat. He was starving for touch, for connection - he wanted to sink into it, wrap it around himself and rub it against his skin like silk. 

“I’ve wanted this for a while, okay?” Ryan’s voice cracked. “I’ve wanted it so badly, I… I don’t have the words.” This was getting embarrassingly sincere. A level of sincerity that couldn’t be hidden by his usual laid-back attitude, or maybe a movie reference. He wasn’t sure if he remembered how to be this raw. 

“You always struck me as more of a top,” Shane said casually. The fingers of his other hand were still playing along Ryan’s back. 

“I can be into both,” Ryan pointed out. “Also, if you’re going to finger me, do you have lube?” It was better to focus on the stuff that needed to be done, right? Concrete stuff. 

“In my bag,” Shane said, indicating the shadowy lump in the darkness that was his suitcase. “In the plastic bag.” It was a weird sort of intimacy; sharing his body, sharing his… stuff. Or maybe Ryan was reading too much into things. That was always a possibility. 

“You mean we won’t have to order from the lube menu?” Ryan stood up on wobbling legs and kicked his pajama pants off. He hesitated for a moment and then took his boxers off, too. 

“You’re not gonna give me the joy of undressing you?” Shane was following suit, though - he kicked his sweatpants off while moving to lie flat on his back, and then… well. 

There was a lot of leg, and a lot of dick. Ryan stopped, standing in the middle of that ridiculous room, his own cock hard and dripping in front of him. But wow. Shane looked like a painting, with the light catching on his pale thighs and reflecting off of the drop of pre-come on the tip of his cock. 

“Draw me like one of your French girls,” Shane said, striking a goofy pose. The moment was ruined and they were both cackling. Ryan dug through the bag. 

There was a clicking sound, and then the room was bathed in golden light. 

Ryan blinked, his whole face screwing up as he reacted to the light Shane had switched on for him so he could find the lube. When he looked over his shoulder to say something pithy, he saw Shane surrounded by golden light as thick as honey. 

Ryan’s heart caught in his throat, and the backs of his eyes prickled. Okay, no. Now was _not_ the time to be hit with feelings. So he dug through the suitcase, found the plastic bag, and was faced with two bottles.

“So I might have bought the creme brulee lube,” said Shane sheepishly. “Not to, like, use or anything, but it’s a good gag gift.”

Ryan snorted and squinted at the other bottle - that looked like normal lube. “It’s a gag gift, in that it’s a gift that’d make me gag,” Ryan said, and then he climbed back onto the bed next to Shane, his hip pressed into Shane’s side. “So, uh… how do you want me to do this?” It felt all too real now, with the light on, and fear was beginning to slither under Ryan’s skin. 

“Climb up,” said Shane, “and give me the lube.”

“Are you _sure_ you want to suck me off? Like this, I mean. It’s, uh.. It’s an awkward angle.” Ryan threw one leg over Shane’s side and leaned forward, his hands braced against the mirror. He looked into his own face and then down at Shane’s, his cock a few inches from Shane’s lower lip. 

“I’m sure,” said Shane, and then he craned his neck forward. It was… an awkward position, to be sure, and for a moment the _weirdness_ of it all hit him. Here he was, about to slide his cock into his best friend's mouth, and what if this ruined everything, what if it made things different, what if - 

Shane, seemingly impatient, put his hands on Ryan’s hips and dragged Ryan forward. His mouth was open, and he took Ryan’s cock in, his tongue swirling along the tip and jabbing at the slit. Ryan swore, pounded on the mirror, and then remembered that hey, maybe that was a bad idea. He pulled back, resting one hand on Shane’s cheek, and his other hand went to his own hair, twisting it. 

Ryan moaned with his head thrown back, and the mirror was slippery with sweat as Shane’s fingers moved along his hips and then slid between the cheeks of his ass. Shane curled his tongue, the tip skating along the underside, and then Ryan thrust back again, almost in spite of himself, until just the head remained in Shane's mouth, resting on his lower lip. Shane was doing something tricky - Ryan heard the lube bottle open, heard the wet sounds, and Shane was doing… something with his arms. How the heck was he doing all of that with a mouthful of cock?

Ryan gasped, staring down raptly as his own cock sank into his best friend’s mouth again, and then Shane’s lubed-up finger pressed against his hole, the very tip of it just barely inside. He went still, and then Shane’s finger slid in a little deeper as he took Ryan’s cock in further until his cock was in Shane’s throat and Shane’s throat was just _squeezing_ him, god. 

“You’re… very good at this,” Ryan said thickly as his hips rolled forward - he was trying not to thrust too hard, trying not to make Shane gag, trying to be considerate. There was some embarrassment mixed in with all the arousal - something awkward about the way his balls were resting on Shane’s chin, or the way the sweat was dripping down his belly, his back. 

Shane pulled off of Ryan’s cock, coughing, and his finger curled deeper, feeling around tentatively. “I’m a man of many and sundry skills,” he said, and his voice was already on its way to wrecked. 

Ryan’s cock twitched once, and then again, harder, as Shane’s finger pressed on his prostate. Ryan shuddered, losing the feeling in his legs for a moment as his cock drooled out pre-come, leaving a mess on Shane’s face. 

God, Shane already looked so _debauched_ , and Ryan looked up at the ceiling mirror impulsively to see it all reflected back at him - his own cock, flushed purple. Shane’s lips, pink and shiny with spit and pre-come. Shane met Ryan’s eyes in the mirror, and he grinned and winked.

Ryan blushed as he looked down into Shane’s actual face, and then he slid his cock back into Shane’s mouth. He watched Shane's face as he clenched around Shane’s finger. Another finger, cold with lube, joined the first. Shane's fingers stretched him out, and it was… oh. Oh, that was… that was intense. Ryan ground back against Shane’s fingers and squeezed his eyes shut. Shane’s tongue rasped along the vein, then went to swirl at the very tip and flicker along Ryan’s frenulum, and Ryan was possibly going to die. Could you die of too much stimulation? 

It was all… it was more _real_ than Ryan had imagined - the coverlet was itchy against his knees, his sweat was slippery and ticklish as it dripped down. He’d occasionally catch sight of a flicker in the mirror, and the familiar fear of ghosts began to shiver along his nerves. A little bit of salt to mix with the sweet pleasure washing over him, over and over. 

It was all… it was all happening, all at once. He just felt it, and kept feeling it, kept feeling all of it at the same time as if time didn’t exist. It was practically metaphysical, except nobody deserved to get metaphysical under a mirrored ceiling. 

Ryan shook. He was shook so hard that his hands tapped on the mirror. But then Shane was pulled off of Ryan’s cock and looked up at Ryan with red-rimmed eyes. 

“You ready for me to take your ass to pound town?” Shane said it so _casually_ , his expression deadpan, and Ryan snickered and then cackled, his forehead against the glass of the mirror. 

“I think you just killed my boner,” Ryan said, as if his cock weren’t bobbing against Shane’s face and catching on Shane’s stubble. It was wet, slimy; the kind of gross that only comes from sex. 

“Then this boner poking me in the face must be a g-g-ghost boner,” said Shane, and he curled his fingers in Ryan again. Ryan’s cock gave a little twitch, and more pre-come dripped out. 

“I hate you so much,” Ryan said flatly, as he leaned into Shane’s fingers, riding them awkwardly while also trying not to hit Shane in the face with his cock too much. “So… much.”

Shane raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t answer my question,” he pointed out. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Ryan said, “let me just….” 

There was more shifting around, and Shane withdrew his fingers. Ryan scooted back and looked down at Shane’s cock. 

It was a dick. An actual, flesh and blood dick. 

Ryan had fucked himself with dildos a few times, or been fucked with dildos. It was… well, this was the real thing. It was hot, and it pulsed in his hand; it got redder when Ryan squeezed it. Shane’s hips rolled forward and he moaned, a desperate noise. Between the pre-come dripping down his shaft and the lube that Ryan spread across it, the whole affair was very slippery. More than Ryan would have imagined when he’d daydreamed about this, but this was so much better.

One of the pink curtains fluttered in the corner of Ryan’s eye - _did we leave the window open?_ \- and then Shane’s cock twitched in Ryan’s hand and Shane made a desperate noise. 

“I can’t… I can’t last very long, if you keep that up,” Shane said. “If you’re gonna… if you’re gonna get up, please get on _now_.” His knuckles were white and bulging where he had grabbed the coverlet. 

“Right,” said Ryan. “Sorry, I’m… I….” the inside of his head was made up of a series of exclamation points, and he was gibbering a lot. 

“Babe,” said Shane, and the sweet pet name that melted something in Ryan’s chest, wriggling down into his guts. It added to the rising heat of arousal, fueled it even further. 

… if Ryan was getting _affection_ boners, what was he even going to do with himself? 

Fuck it. Another problem for future Ryan. 

“Right,” Ryan said, and scooted around to hold himself open with one hand so Shane could guide his cock in. 

The head was blunt, and it was… thick, it was filling Ryan up, and it was hot and pulsing. He slid down onto it carefully until he was fully seated, his hands on Shane’s chest for balance, his ass tensing around Shane’s cock.

“You feel really good,” Shane said, rolling his hips up cautiously. “Hot and tight, fuck….” 

Ryan moaned and shuddered, his skin breaking out in goosebumps. His knees dug into Shane’s hips. He rocked, and the rocking was enough to make Shane's cock pass along his prostate, and then Shane’s lubed up hand was on Ryan’s cock. Shane gave him a long, slow stroke, and Ryan sobbed.

“God, Ry,” Shane said, and fuck, his face was red, his whole _chest_ was turning red. Then it was like a faucet being unleashed, and Shane just… talked. “You’re so hot inside, you’re… like satin, god, I look at you and I want it, I want you, I’ve wanted… yes, do that, do that, don’t… _stop_ , fuck!” 

Ryan would have laughed - it turned out that Shane was a babbler. It was always the quiet ones, or some cliche like that?

And then Shane’s cock shifted, and Ryan’s eyes darted between Shane’s face and his own in the mirror, at the movement of the two of them. At least the bed didn’t creak - then again, why would a bed made for fucking creak? Why was Ryan’s brain going down that tangent in the first place? Why did he need to think about anything? 

Ever again?

Shane was still babbling and Ryan was taking in some of it, but he was also watching himself, watching the two of them, and the pleasure in his gut was building and building as his abs contracted and his ass clenched. 

There was a cock _inside of him_ \- someone else’s cock, someone else’s body part, and it wasn’t as easy as it had seemed like it would be. It wasn’t as smooth as a silicone dildo; it pulled at him, just a little bit. It was hot - it was pulsingly hot, the kind of hot that could only come from a living body, and there was something heady about that. 

… Ryan refused to have a transcendental moment with a dick in his ass. Let alone when he was looking at himself in a mirrored ceiling, because fuck that. He’d hold it off until he got home, at the very least. 

“Ryan,” Shane said, and he passed his thumb across Ryan’s frenulum, making Ryan’s hips stutter forward. “Ryan, you’re in your head.” Shane’s hair was pasted down with sweat, and his face was flushed. “C’mon, Ryan, come for me, come back, do it… come on, I can feel it, I can feel you getting close, you’re getting tighter, you’re so hot inside, it’s so….” 

“So?” Ryan’s hand was in Shane’s - they were holding hands, and Ryan’s other hand was on Shane’s chest while Shane jerked him off. Shane’s long fingers pressed down on Ryan’s knuckles. Their hands were sweaty, sliding together, and magnified the sensations on Ryan’s cock, the way Shane’s cock was just _filling_ him. 

“So much,” said Shane, and he squeezed Ryan’s hand again. He humped up into Ryan, his cock sliding in and out - the drag and pull of it was just… oh… fuck!

Ryan clung to Shane’s fingers, and he met his own gaze in the wall mirror, then looked up at the ceiling mirror, and... something was moving. 

Something was moving, and it wasn’t them, it wasn’t the curtains, it wasn’t anything. It was _something else_ moving, and Ryan stared at it, and then Shane’s wrist did something and Shane’s cock did something _else_ , and the pleasure in Ryan flared and sparked like someone pouring gasoline on a fire. It blazed with heat and sweetness and the relief of pleasure, beating in time with Ryan’s heartbeat. 

“Did you _see_ that?” Ryan panted and his cock was still twitching in Shane’s hand as Shane fucked up into him, both hands on Ryan’s hips. He was viscerally aware of Shane’s cock moving in and out of him, of the ways their bodies were connected and still separated at the same time. 

… maybe the orgasm had blown out his logical brain. Or maybe he’d seen an _actual_ ghost, and the ghost had seen him with his dick out. 

And then Shane looked at Ryan with a desperate expression and he opened his mouth to say… something, but his cock was swelling inside of Ryan and his thrusting lost all rhythm. Shane’s face went ugly and open as he came, his mouth falling open and his hips jerking up. His come was hot, scalding hot, and Ryan wasn’t sure how he felt about it, except he didn’t dislike it. 

“I saw a ghost,” Ryan said, and then Shane was pulling him down and kissing him as Shane’s cock slid out of him. The come and lube were slippery and gross in some satisfying way as they oozed down Ryan’s thigh. Ryan’s come was slippery and sticky on their bellies, already getting tacky. 

“Of course you did,” Shane said against Ryan’s mouth, and his hands (sweaty and lube-y) stroked Ryan’s back. “Why did I expect any other kind of pillow talk?” 

“I did,” Ryan insisted. “We just had sex in a haunted location, and it was the ghost of -”

“Ryan,” Shane interrupted, “I am endeared as all hell, no doubt fueled by post-sex endorphins, but it is _late_ and we need to do a whole lot of stuff like get new sheets and take a shower before we can turn the camera back on.” His fingers were tracing along the coastlines of Ryan’s shoulder blades, to the ridges of Ryan’s spine. 

“Okay,” Ryan said, and he yawned wide enough that his jaw cracked. Okay, yeah, the exhaustion (brought on by sex and terror) was beginning to creep into his bones. “Can we talk about the ghost in the morning?” He was getting lulled to sleep with his head on Shane’s chest, even covered in bodily fluids and lube as he was. 

“We can,” said Shane. “But… first… shower.” He was already nodding off. 

Ryan would wake Shane up, get started on the changing sheets, and turn on the shower. In a minute.

Right now he was going to relish the sound of Shane’s heartbeat under his ear, even if it was in this ridiculous motel room with its mirrored ceiling. 

“Shane,” Ryan said, “you need to get up. We have shit we need to do.”

“Mmm,” Shane grumbled, but his eyes fluttered open. “Jerk, trying to keep us from getting killed by our cameraman, preserve our careers, and keep us from alienating our fanbase.” 

“I know,” Ryan said solemnly. “I’m the worst. Get your lanky ass up and into the shower.”

“I can’t get it up again,” Shane said, but he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his feet sinking into the thick carpet. 

“... what?” 

“You said you wanted to give me head in the shower,” said Shane. “Remember?”

“Oh. Right,” said Ryan. “Well, there’ll be other showers.” And okay, maybe he was being a bit _too_ nonchalant. 

“There will indeed be other showers,” said Shane, and he rested a hand on the back of Ryan’s neck, giving it a squeeze. 

… it was the lubey hand, which _ew_ , but whatever, they were going to shower. 

“Right,” said Ryan, and he stood up, then made an annoyed noise as come dripped down his thigh. “Ew.” 

“You get used to it,” said Shane, and there was more of that forced-casual tone. 

“I’ll let you get used to it next time,” said Ryan, and okay, maybe that didn’t make the most… sense, but it was an ungodly time of night. 

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Shane said breezily, and then he was up and off towards the shower, his bare skin glowing in the darkness. 

Ryan stared after him, his mouth open.

“You coming, Bergara?” The light in the bathroom turned on, and then Shane was standing there illuminated by it. 

“Yeah,” said Ryan, and it felt a bit like he was agreeing to more than just a shower. “I’m coming.”

Shane grinned at him, and Ryan’s heart skipped a beat.

Something moved out of the corner of Ryan’s eye, but he made a point of keeping his eyes on Shane. He was going to worry about that later. For now… he was going to shower with Shane.

**Author's Note:**

> Like this fic?
> 
> Want me to write you something like it, or something completely different?
> 
> Come talk to me on my tumblr, theseusinthemaze.tumblr.com!


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